Liquid Courage
by MissingMommy
Summary: If it's something Victoire's good at, it's running away from her fears. Neville/Victoire one-shot.


**A/n- I own nothing you recognize!**

For the longest time, no one notices that Victoire's smiles don't reach her chocolate eyes. In fact, nobody takes the time to realize that her life is falling apart right in front of her and she has no control over it. She lost her boyfriend to her younger sister, her parents are on the verge of a divorce though they wouldn't tell anyone (Victoire hears them yell every time she's home for the holidays), and she's supposed to be the example for the younger ones.

How good of an impression will she be giving if they knew she's siting in the Herbology greenhouse, drinking her worries away? With Firewhiskey on her breath, she feels the courage that she's never had. (They don't call it liquid courage for nothing, after all). She sits in silence, sipping on the bottle of Firewhiskey in her hands, wondering why her life is in pieces.

"Miss Weasley, what are you doing in the greenhouses at this hour?" a voice came from behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Her head of fiery locks snaps up immediately, looking Professor Longbottom in the eyes. Age had been rather kind to him. Though much older than he seems, Victoire knows that he has a story to tell; a rather interesting one at that. As she looks at him, his blue eyes that usually sparkled with laughter are dull. She wonders what happened. "I just love the peacefulness of the greenhouses," she slurs slightly. She hasn't drunk enough to really affect her yet.

He eyes her up and down. "Please tell me you haven't been drinking." Something in his voice tells her that he's practically begging her to deny the truth.

Instead of directly replying, she offers the bottle towards him. "Care to join me, Professor?" she asks softly. It's almost as if she's asking for trouble. But the both of them know that he wouldn't turn her in.

She takes another swig before Neville pulls it out her hands. He lets the warmth of the drink fill his body. "I can get sacked for drinking with a student," he informs her, sighing.

"It's a good thing I won't tell," she giggles. The alcohol has hit her hard and she can't feel the burn of it anymore. They sit in silence, passing the bottle of Firewhiskey back and forth. Even though they both know it's wrong, they can't find it within themselves to care. "Why are you drinking with me anyways?"

The question seems innocent enough, but by the look on Neville's face, she knows she's gone too far. "Hannah left me and took the kids," he finally spits out. He's looking anywhere but at Victoire. Trying to comfort him, Victoire whispers her apologizes. "Don't worry about." He turns to face her, "What about you? Why are you drinking?"

Without a second thought, she spills everything to him; all her worries, mistakes, and regrets. Throughout her rambling, he just sits there, listening silently. He knows that she needs someone to talk to or else she would break.

;~;

She doesn't know how she ended up in his bed. From the amount of alcohol she had consumed, she understands why she draws a blank after spilling her heart out to him. "Victoire?" he asks groggily. It didn't take him long to piece the puzzle together. "Oh Merlin," he groans.

Turning away from him, she gathers her clothes and changes quickly. As she's about to leave, she turns back to face him. "Don't worry, Neville. I'm not the type of girl to kiss and tell," she whispers. "So no one but us will know." Before he can thank her, she's darted off to Hufflepuff's common room.

;~;

A week has passed between the two. Neither acts as if anything happened. It's a late Friday afternoon in November. She lingers in the greenhouse since Herbology is her last class of the day. The class files out leaving them alone. "Victoire, please go back to your dorms," he sighs.

As he walks into his office, she follows him. "I just want to talk, Professor," she replies innocently.

He sees right through her act. "And the last time we talked, things happened. I'd rather not have that happen again," he says. Hurt flashed through her eyes and he knows he said something wrong. His expression softens, "I didn't mean it like that." But it's too late and the damage has been done.

She turns to leave, "Despite what you may think, Neville, I don't regret it." He's left to the thought of her fiery locks sweeping behind her. Did he regret it? Honestly, he couldn't find it in himself to regret the night he spent with her.

;~;

The next night, Neville finds her in the spot she was in before. Judging by the look on her face, he knows that she's upset and has been drinking again. Before she can argue, he takes the bottle out of her hands and carries her to his bed. He takes off her shoes and conjures up himself a pillow and blanket.

She stirs the next morning as light is pouring in. Neville looks up from his paper, evaluating her silently. After downing the bottle of hangover potion she has with her, Victoire stares at him questioning.

"You were drinking again, so I couldn't take you back to your tower," he explains. She nods and thanks him. "Not so fast, Victoire," he says sternly as she moves to leave. "You shouldn't be drinking as much or as often as you are."

"It's a substitute for happiness," she shrugs.

"You're unhappy all the time?"

"I don't believe in happiness, Neville."

"That doesn't answer my question," he notes.

"It wasn't supposed to," she replies. Before he can ask her what she meant, she's gone. He stares after her, wondering why she isn't happy.

;~;

She returns a few nights later in the dead of night, just to see him. She wakes him gently. "I just have to know: do you regret it?"

Though still groggy from waking up, he replies, "It was a drunken mistake. I should've never done it." Illuminated by the moonlight, he can see her expression fall.

"That's all I needed to know," she whispers. She turns to run away, something she's wonderful at.

This time, he caught her wrist before she could. "Just because it was a mistake doesn't mean I regret it." He crushes his lips to hers. It's the first time in a long time that he's felt like a teenager again. She tastes like peppermint and feels warm under his touch. Before he can react, she pushes him down on his bed.

She wakes up the next morning, beside him, and she can't remember a better morning. Silently, he knows they shouldn't have, but he can't bring himself to care. For the first time, he sees her smile light up her eyes.

She leaves without a word.

;~:

For weeks after, their game continues. She comes to his bed every other midnight. They kiss, touch, and feel each other for hours before passing out from exhaustion. Every time he would wake up, she would be gone. It's a silent agreement between the two.

They are using each other. Victoire fakes love for the night and Neville feels the companionship he had lost. It's nearly fixing his broken heart.

"Victoire, what did you mean when you said you didn't believe in happiness?" he asks suddenly one night.

"Oh, I believe in happiness. Just not happiness for myself," she explains.

"And why not?"

"It seems that no matter how hard I try, nothing in this world wants to make me happy. Did you hear about Teddy and Dominique?" she asks him. When he nods, she continues, "Honestly, I can't find it in myself to be angry at either of them. Teddy was never happy with me anyways. It just seems that every person around me because upset and sorrowful."

Before he can say anything to contradict her statement, she leaves.

;~;

She shows up like she usually does. With one glance at him, she knows something's wrong. "Go back to your dorm, Victoire," he says sharply. "We can't continue this." Her chocolate eyes bore into his. He looks away guiltily.

Nodding silently, Victoire walks back out the door. Before she can shut it, his voice calls, "Please, don't come back again, Victoire." Since her back is facing him, he doesn't see the pain flash in her eyes. She nods as her response and turns back to flash him a heartbreaking smile. He notices it doesn't reach her eyes.

;~;

She does as she told and leaves Neville alone. Thankfully, she's home for the holidays and doesn't have to think about the guy who made her truly happy for a little while. All she has to think about is what to eat and who to talk to. She realizes how much she's truly missed being at home.

As usual, family and close friends gathers at the Potter's mansion for Christmas dinner and dance. Victoire allows Lily to straighten her curls, which she's recently cut short. She tugs her heels on and pulls down her silver dress.

As she standing beside her mother, talking to her father about her future plans, she's looking around the dance floor. When asked if she's waiting on someone, she denies quickly. Her father looks at her skeptically, but lets it go anyways.

Neville walks through the door, with his three children in tow. As if he knows that she was staring at him, his eyes flickers over to her. They meet for a split second before he glances away. She excuses herself from her father and pretends to get a glass of punch. Neville greets her Aunts and Uncles, letting himself not notice Victoire.

She approaches him after he sits down for a drink. Taking the seat across from him, she greets him. "I have to greet all the guests, Professor," she says innocently.

"Don't do this now, Victoire," he whispers to her. "Please."

"I just want to tell you that I still don't regret it," she replies. Before he can tell her he doesn't either, she's gone into the crowd. If it's something Victoire's good at, it's running away from her fears.

;~;

It takes him a few weeks after the ball to work up the courage to keep her after class. He looks anywhere but her eyes, as he knows it would be his only downfall. "I might not regret what happened, but we both know it's wrong," he says simply. "That's why I stopped it; because it was wrong."

"I don't see what's so wrong about love," she replies.

"I'm nearly two decades older than you, Victoire," he cries out in frustration. "I'm old enough to be your father, for Merlin's sake!"

"But you're not my father," she remarks. "And age is just a number."

He groans. "Don't you understand? You deserve someone better than me; someone who can give you anything you wanted. I can't give you the sky."

She finally understands what it's all about. "I don't want someone else. I want you. You may not be able to give me the sky, but I don't want it anyways. I just need someone who wants to be with me." She looks into his blue eyes and whispers the truth, "You make me happy."

Those four words are his downfall. He wants to see Victoire believe in happiness again. Besides, he can't honestly say that she doesn't make him happy.

**A/n- So this is M&MWP, Neville/Victoire. I've recently fallen in love with this pairing. So I had to write something about it. I did something a little different than I usually do. Victoire wasn't what I imaged her to be. Usually when I think Victoire, I think blonde hair and blue eyes. But I figured she was part Weasley, why not show it.**

**Also, she's characterized in a different way. When I think Victoire, I think good girl, can't do anything wrong, perfect. She's far from perfect in this story. I really hope you enjoyed.**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


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